


gifts

by Jelly



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied rayllum, parental rayllum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: The first time, it’s a fish.[For that anon who sent me that I Wish You Would Write ask where Zym gifts Callum and Rayla the best bits of his hunt.]





	gifts

_gifts_

 

 

 

The first time, it’s a fish.

Nothing too outrageous - just something little from Zym to his human and elf to say thanks for taking such good care of him so far. It’s been a month, maybe, since he rolled out of his egg, tiny and excitable and too clumsy to be of any use to them on their long journey to his supposed home.

The trip has been long. His feet get tired and sore, and the muscles in his wings aren’t quite strong enough to let him fly for longer a few yards at a time. He doesn’t fit in his human’s pack any more, but they carry him anyway. He likes it when his human holds him in his arms, or when his elf lets him sit on her shoulders, and they go out of their way every night to make sure he’s warm and safe before they settle in themselves.

It’s very nice of them to. They’re not like him, as far as he can tell. There’s no obligation to look after him as well as they have been, but they don’t seem to mind. He wonders, at times, if there are ways he can thank them personally - ways he can show his appreciation for all their trouble when they don’t understand his yips and chirps.

He figures out a way the day he follows his elf into the woods to watch her hunt.

She’s very quick. Her footsteps are light, even as she steps carefully over fallen leaves and dry twigs, catching rabbits with her hands with such ease that Zym decides it can’t be _that_ hard to hunt, and, little as he is, maybe he can help. He is a dragon, after all. He should learn to hunt for himself.

He thinks breakfast might be a good opportunity to show his thanks.

They fall asleep that night huddled together for warmth, Zym curled up in the crook of his elf’s arm while his human keeps watch, and when his human nods off just before dawn (he tends to, but his elf never knows about it), Zym climbs out of his elf’s arms and sniffs curiously at the morning air.

There’s a river nearby. He can hear it babbling quietly in the distance; can smell the wetness of its bank even from here. He follows it, careful not to stray too far from their campsite so he doesn’t get lost.

It takes him a couple of tries - it’s difficult, being so little that the current might carry him away if he’s not careful - but he manages. He catches one fish for himself; holds it in his paws and chews against it, enjoying the taste of it in his mouth, and, pleased, goes for a bigger one to bring back to camp.

It’s hard work. The fish is heavy in his jaws, but he lugs it back anyway to find his human and his elf in a yelling match with each other about where he might have disappeared to.

He yips.

Sets the fish at their feet.

Grins proudly at his work when their shouting stops immediately, and they stare at him, and then his fish, and then at him again, before his elf visibly relaxes and laughs into her fist.

“Is this for us?”

He nudges it closer to their feet by way of an answer, his tongue hanging happily out of his mouth.

“Aw, bud,” laughs his human. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you, though.”

They crouch over, their animosity gone and entirely replaced by grateful smiles. “Thanks,” they keep telling him. “We’re so proud of you! Good job!”

But their smiles and their affection is all the thanks he needs.

 

 

 

The second time, it’s a deer.

He’s getting pretty big now - not so big that he can carry it off on his own, but big enough that he needs more than they can catch. He’s still growing - his head comes to his human’s elbow now, even though he could swear it’s only been a few weeks more.

He doesn’t get so tired anymore. He flies off some days - scouts the area for them and makes sure to lead them away from bunkers and roads. He’s glad to be helping them - they’ve done so much for him already, and even though they know he can hunt for himself now, they still go out of their way to make sure he has a whole rabbit to himself for dinner.

One evening, when his elf comes back with only one rabbit, they give it to him.

They don’t argue about it. They take one look at each other and somehow conclude without even talking that his need for it is greater than theirs.

His elf tosses it to him, her smile unfazed by the fact that she and his human will have to make do with berries tonight. They settle by the fire, distracting one another by throwing berries into the other’s mouth, his human cheering loudly when his his elf snaps one out of the air with her teeth. It’s nice, he thinks, that they can be so content even though times are hard, but it won’t do.

He lumbers off, his feet too heavy and too big for the rest of his body.

His elf and his human watch him go, but they don’t stop him. No one’s foolish enough in Xadia to try and attack a storm dragon, and, in any case, he’s big enough now that he can look after himself. He won’t be gone for long.

He finds a family of deer by a milkfruit bush a little way away. He feels a little bad - they’ve done nothing wrong, but the way of life is complicated, and it’s important that his elf and his human have the strength to travel and to defend themselves if they need to. They can’t do that so well on empty stomachs, and between a deer and his companions, he knows which he’d prefer.

He waits in the bushes. Picks one that’s a little bit older, and a little bit bigger, so that at least the young ones might have a chance to live a bit longer. Then he lunges.

The deer scatter, but he’s faster. He catches one in his jaws; bites down on its neck and holds it against the ground; waits for it to fall still and lifeless before he drags it back to camp.

His human is drawing when he gets there. It’s a picture of his elf, he thinks, as she sits by the fire and sharpens her blades. They’re so used to the heaviness of his footfalls now that they don’t even look up when they hear him, and when his human turns at last, he yelps and scrambles backwards, his sketchbook falling out of his lap.

“Is - is that a deer?”

Zym lets out a low purr. A stranger might think it’s a growl, but his human and his elf know better than that. It’s proud and pleased and generous, and he nudges the deer towards them and kneads the ground, glancing between them and his deer in a way that hopes they like his gift.

“ _Zym_ ,” laughs his elf. “Did you get this for us?”

He purrs again and nudges it once more. It’s only fair, he wants to tell him. They gave him a whole rabbit before, knowing they’d go hungry for it. They deserve a whole deer to themselves.

“Ahaha - thanks buddy,” says his human at last, looking somewhere between bewildered and grateful for an entire deer they absolutely won’t get through. “You didn’t have to do that.”

They don’t have to look after him either, but they do. It’s what family does.

 

 

 

The third time, it’s a horse.

He’s a lot bigger now. Not so long ago, he used to snuggle into his human’s side for warmth and ride on his elf’s shoulders like a dragon scarf. Now, he’s big enough to carry them when they get tired, and they lean against his side, his tail curled protectively around them on the nights they have to sleep out in the open.

They’re getting close, he thinks. He can feel it in his bones, but as nice as it will be to meet his mother at last, he’s sad that his adventure with his human and his elf is coming to an end. They keep talking about his home like it’s this distant, discrete place - “It’s where your family is,” his human tells him, “You’ll be safe there.”

He’s safe  _here_ , he wants to tell them.  _This_ is where his family is. In all honesty, he doesn’t want to go home if it means his human and his elf will go away.

But he understands. Truly, he does. The war might end, if he goes home. His human and his elf might find a way to be happy together if their people didn’t hate each other so. Things will be better for everyone. He just wishes there was a way they could all stay together.

But they’ll go back to his human’s city, he thinks. The same city his other human - the smaller one with the fuzzier hair - had gone home to where he’s ruling as King. It’d be nice if his elf could stay, at least, as part of his Dragon Guard, but his human needs her. He won’t make it home in one piece without her, and she’ll be happier with his human than she’ll ever be with him.

It makes him sad. He wishes he could tell them.

On their final day of travel, Zym wanders away. Not because he doesn’t want to go home, but because he wants to make sure his human and his elf get home safer, and sooner, and he won’t be around to carry them anymore when their feet get sore or when they’re too tired to walk.

He comes back with a horse.

He holds it gently in his claws, careful not to hurt it; sets it gently on the ground in front of him as they stare at him, wide eyed and unsure.

It whinnies, afraid of him, but his elf reacts quickly, her hand going to its mane to calm it while he looms over head. “Is he for us?” she whispers, understanding.

Zym nods his head, solemn and sad that they’re so close to going their separate ways. He’ll miss them, he thinks. He’ll miss them very much. He’ll live much longer than the both of them, but he’ll never forget them.

He hopes they’ll never forget him.

“You didn’t have to do that, bud,” says his human, patting his snout gently. “Don’t be sad. We’ll come visit. All the time.”

“So often you’ll get sick of us,” adds his elf. “And what will Ezran say if you never visit him?”

He snorts at them both, his breath furling around them like storm clouds on the horizon.  

“We’ll miss you, Zym,” murmurs his human. “But don’t worry, okay? You’ll see us again before long. We promise.”

It feels more like a pipe dream than a promise, but they’re determined - Zym’s been with them long enough to know that. He huffs. He’ll hold them to it, he thinks. They’re family, after all.


End file.
